


Hauntingly Beautiful

by DrownedTrying



Series: South Park Fics [7]
Category: South Park
Genre: Character Death, Death, F/F, F/M, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Suicide, Tissue Warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2019-11-07 22:36:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17969345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrownedTrying/pseuds/DrownedTrying
Summary: Everyone is dead. Everyone that you knew, every neighbor, every classmate, every teacher, is dead.It wasn’t like this when you left. You had only gone up to Idaho to visit a friend for a week, but when you came back, there was not a soul in sight. It was almost as if the residents of South Park never existed.That is, until you found their bodies.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING
> 
> If you are suffering from depression or suicidal tendencies, or if depression and suicidal tendencies trigger you, read at your own risk.

Everyone is dead. Everyone that you knew, every neighbor, every classmate, every teacher, is dead.

It wasn’t like this when you left. You had only gone up to Idaho to visit a friend for a week, but when you came back, there was not a soul in sight. It was almost as if the residents of South Park never existed. 

That is, until you found their bodies.

Kenny was nothing more than a decapitated head, Stan had his chest ripped open, Cartman was run over by a bus, and Kyle was hanging from a noose, each of the boys either in or near their homes. Their families fared no better, their bodies strewn around the town either in one piece or in multiple. No one was spared. Not even the kids and babies.

You remember screaming, tears overflowing from your eyes as you took in the sight of your loved ones’ bodies. Blood was everywhere, some dried on the walls and sidewalks, some looking freshly spilled. South Park had become the place of your nightmares.

The next thing you did was drag each body one by one to the cemetery. It was hard work, and between the weight of the bodies and the emotional weight, it took you three days to bring everyone to the graveyard. It took you even longer to dig separate graves for each person and to craft makeshift grave markers. It killed you when you had to bury your friends, the people that made your short time at South Park worth it. 

You were all alone. 

You were completely certain after double checking the town. Everyone was dead, and there was nothing you could do about it. However, you can’t find it in yourself to leave the silent town. Something about it stops you. Perhaps it’s the fact that you spent the previous year living in this town, or maybe it’s the memories of your friends. Maybe you feel as if you’ll be disrespecting your deceased friends if you left, as if leaving them behind as a forgotten memory. It’s not something you want to do, so you make the hard decision to stay.

South Park is dead, and now, you’re the only living resident.

* * *

Kyle stares at his grave marker, his green eyes dull. It had been a few days since he killed himself. After watching Ike fall to his death from the second story window, Kyle found no purpose left in his life. His parents? Dead. His best friends? Deceased. You? He had no idea where you were, but he knew that you’d come back to a ghost town. 

It stung, at first. The rope around his neck dug deep into his skin, and he hadn’t even kicked the chair away yet. Tears dripped from his eyes as he glanced at the picture that rested on his nightstand. It was from a few years ago when he and Ike took a brother camping trip. The sun was setting, and he and Ike were starting the campfire. Kyle had taken the picture in the form of a selfie, Ike smiling widely as he holds up a bag of marshmallows. It was a great memory, but now, it gave him nothing but pain. Swallowing as much as he could, Kyle allows the tears to fall before kicking the chair from under him. 

His neck doesn’t break right away, leaving Kyle to struggle for air, but no air comes. His eyes widen as you come to his mind. What would you think when he sees you hanging from his bedroom ceiling fan?! Kyle realizes his mistake too late, kicking wildly to try and reach the fallen chair. The tips of his sneakers brush against the wooden piece of furniture, but to no avail. Drool drips from the corners of his mouth as tears continue to fall. Choking sounds are strangled from his mouth, but as his world grows dark due to the lack of oxygen, Kyle finds himself hoping, no, _praying,_ that he can one day meet you in a different life. 

Maybe then he’d have a chance to be by your side until death do you part.

Until then, he does nothing but wander South Park. It was a lot more monotone than before, the bright colors dulled and grayed out. Kyle often sees his friends and family wandering around as well, chatting with each other and often confused on how South Park went to hell within a day or two, but he makes no effort to talk to them. He often walks the other way if someone walks towards him. However, what confuses him the most is that since he watched Kenny explode into a million pieces due to one of Jimbo’s grenades, the redhead hasn’t seen the blonde at all. Not that it would really matter since he doesn’t make the effort to talk to anyone, but it still bothers him that one of his friends was missing.

“Hey dude, where have you been?” Kyle turns to see Stan standing there, his hands in his pockets and a worried expression on his face.

“Around,” he replies. He turns back to his grave marker, staring thoughtfully at it. Stan sits by him, staring at the grave marker as well.

“How do you think we got here?” he questions. Kyle’s shoulders raise in a shrug. No one really knew how they ended up six feet underground and crudely made grave markers marking their graves.

“I have no clue,” Kyle admits. Stan glances at him out of the corner of his eyes.

“Do you think it was (Y/N)?” The redhead barks out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. 

“If it were (Y/N), don’t you think we would’ve seen her?” he retorts. The ravenette hums softly before staring at Kyle’s name burned on the wooden cross.

“Yeah,” Stan says after a while. “We would’ve seen her by now. I don’t think she’s coming back to South Park.” Stan’s words stung Kyle more than he’d like to admit, but somewhere deep in him, he hopes that’s not the case. 

“I don’t know, dude,” Kyle sighs. They sit in silence. “Do you think whatever happened here got her?” Stan shrugs, turning to face his best friend. Kyle refuses to look at him, opting to stare at the toes of his brown boots.

“Let’s hope not,” the ravenette says. “Why don’t you head home and try to rest?” This time, the laugh that leaves Kyle is more genuine. Stan ends up chuckling as well.

“Dude, do you know how _weird_ it is to go home and ‘rest’ now that we’re dead? It’s like telling someone stuck in a wheelchair to get up and walk off the pain!” he laughs. His best friend only rolls his eyes playfully.

“Yeah, that does sound pretty fucking weird, doesn’t it?” Kyle stands with a soft sigh, a smile playing on his lips.

“Thanks for talking, man. I’m sorry for not being around,” the redhead tells him. Stan follows him with his eyes.

“What’s up with that, man? Being dead makes you too good to talk to your Super Best Friend?” Stan teases. Kyle flips him off, earning a laugh from his best friend.

“Nah, just getting used to being dead.” There’s a brief silence before Kyle speaks again. “I’ll see you around, okay?” Stan smiles and nods.

“Sounds good, dude. I’ll see you later.” Kyle turns and walks of the cemetery with a small smile. It was good talking to Stan again, even though he made a point to avoid everyone he was close to.

The walk home was uneventful. As always, Kyle doesn’t talk to anyone, but that doesn’t stop him from watching his dead friends interact with each other. He saw Craig and Tweek walking hand in hand, Bebe chatting with Wendy, and even Chef singing a provocative song to Ms. Cartman. Everything seemed perfectly normal as he walks along the sidewalk and towards his house. As he gets closer, Kyle avoids looking at the second story window. 

Ike’s room. 

It wasn’t a pleasant memory, the young boy of fifteen falling backwards after having one of his panic attacks. Kyle remembers reaching for him to pull the young Canadian into his arms to comfort him, but Ike reacted violently, shoving Kyle away and losing his balance. Ike’s death is what led Kyle to commit suicide, but despite wanting to find his brother and make sure he’s truly okay, Kyle hides himself away, unable to look at Ike’s face, the mental image of Ike being surrounded by blood fresh in his mind. 

Kyle distracts himself by going inside and going straight to the kitchen. He can’t eat anything, but he left his book at the table. It was a copy of (Y/N)’s favorite book, one she always begged the redhead to read. After he died, Kyle decided to give the book a try. He’s read it probably five times by now. With a smile, the twenty year old grabs the book and heads back into the living room, eager for a few hours of complete silence as he reads.

* * *

South Park was silent. With no one around, you find yourself to be quite lonely, but you often distract yourself by the grueling task of cleaning blood off of every wall, sidewalk, road, and everything in between. You’d have to handle the insides of the houses for later.

“You and I,” you sing under your breath, “we’re like fireworks and symphonies exploding in the sky. With you, I’m alive.” _Sad Song_ was one of Kyle’s favorite songs. 

When you two had met, it was in the Community Center. No one else was around, but you had gone in to see if there were any notifications on the bulletin board for community service. It wasn’t something you were familiar with, but you moved to the mountain town for a change in lifestyle, so why not do something new and give to the community you’d be living in? 

You quickly discovered that you weren’t alone in the building. 

The lights were off, save for the lights by the podium. There was a grand piano, and there was someone playing a song. You had no idea what to do other than listen. The pianist’s fingers moved smoothly, gliding over the keys with such a grace, it could make any ballerina jealous. When the boy started singing, you had felt your heart quicken.

His voice was as graceful as his fingers, his soft red curls bouncing as he sways with the music, his eyes closed. You quietly took a seat in the shadows and watched with wide eyes. He sang a song you didn’t recognize, but from the way he put so much emotion into it, you assumed it was sang for someone he loved. A girlfriend, perhaps.

“That was beautiful,” you had spoken up once he finished. The boy jumped, his head snapped towards you. His green eyes were wide in shock. “Ah, sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!” The redhead stands, and you had noticed he was a lot taller than you had expected him to be. He stood at at least five foot eleven, and judging his features, he wasn’t much older than you.

“Thanks,” he had said. You remember the smile that made its way to his lips. “I’m Kyle. You are?” You had given him your name, and he had taken a few minutes to play the song start from finish. It was as beautiful as it was the first time he played it.

You sigh at the memory, staring at the pressure washer in your grip. One year wasn’t enough time to be with your new friends. It felt so unfair that they disappeared without explanation. You were about to continue washing the blood off of Clyde’s driveway when a flash of color moved passed you. Blinking, you look for the unusual mix of colors. It had almost looked like-

“Kyle?” you whisper. You swear you saw him walking up to his house, disappearing behind the closed door. Pressure washer forgotten, you carefully ran to Kyle’s house, careful to not slip on ice and frozen blood on your way. You weren’t sure if you were seeing things, and since you don’t exactly see spirits, you begin to suspect that’s the case. With a deep breath, you walk up to his door and slowly push it open. 

Nothing’s out of the ordinary at first glance. All the lights are off and Kyle’s not present. You turned to leave, but notice a book that was open on his end table suddenly close. Frozen in fear and shock, you stare at the book.

* * *

Kyle looks up, looking over at his front door. It was open.

“I thought I closed it?” he mumbles. Kyle closes the book that lay on the end table and stands to close the door. The door closes softly, and he’s sure it wasn’t the wind that had closed the damn thing. If that wasn’t proof enough, he had seen the door handle turning, almost as if someone was there, closing the door for him. “What the fuck?!” Kyle gasps, falling backwards.

* * *

Fear engulfing your body, you watch with wide eyes as the lamp that rested besides the book suddenly crashes to the ground, luckily not breaking. However, instead of waiting around to see if something physical was the cause for not only the book closing, but the lamp falling, you turn and run out of the house, slamming the door behind you. You don’t stop until you make it to the safety of your home, chest heaving. Tears blurred your vision and you let them fall. 

“I’m just imagining things,” you try to reassure yourself. It wasn’t working. You knew what you had seen, and there was no denying what had happened. The cause of the events, however, was still lost to you. “Maybe I’ll get some sleep.” Nodding to yourself, you climb the stairs to your room, still shaking. Everything was in place, not a single thing moved. You sigh, running a shaking hand through your hair. You were almost certain you really _were_ seeing things. When you pass by your window, you freeze. You could have sworn you saw someone looking around the street before looking up at your window, locking eyes with you, but it was gone within a second.

It almost looked like Kyle.


	2. A/N: Warning

Hello, everyone! Unfortunately, this is not an update. Let's talk about something big called **_RESPECT._** To start off, I'm in college. I'm in college full time as a nursing student. I study eleven plus hours a day, not to mention I work and I struggle to maintain a healthy social life. I created my server so anyone who has a question can ask me directly. However, DEMANDING that I update or you'll come to my house with a weapon is UNACCEPTABLE.

Let me get one thing straight, because quite frankly, I'm beyond fucking pissed off. Today, I received a message saying that someone is threatening to come to my house with either eggs to egg my house, or to show up at my door with a baseball bat. First, this person threatens me, then they demand I update a fic. 

**NONE OF YOU TELL ME WHEN TO FUCKING UPDATE. YOU DO NOT TELL ME WHAT TO FUCKING DO AND EXPECT ME TO DROP EVERYTHING AND DO WHAT YOU FUCKING SAY, LIKE YOU'RE AN OWNER AND I'M SOME LITTLE BITCH YOU CAN ORDER TO SIT OR STAY OR BEG.**

If I receive another message containing a threat or demanding me to update a specific story, without fucking notice, I will delete that story. Do not test me. I am sick of this childish shit. Grow the fuck up and realize that I'm not going to take any of this bullshit.

Also, a HUGE THANK YOU to those of you who understand that I may not update for a long time due to my busy schedule. You guys are fucking awesome and I love chatting with each and every one of you! You guys are the reason why I write these stories, and when I update, I make sure to put out the best possible content that I can. I love each and every one of you, and I hope to talk to everyone more!

**Author's Note:**

> If you've enjoyed the chapter, leave a comment, kudo, bookmark, and subscribe to get notified when I update the story!


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